Lost And Found
by FelixTheBrat
Summary: THIS IS A ONE SHOT AU! While searching for Rachel, Chloe comes across a strange bunker known as the Dark Room. What she finds in there shakes her to her core. Written for and dedicated to RedFoxProjects. Cross posted on Wattpad.


A/N: FUCKING TRIGGERS UP THE ASS, Y'ALL! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

I had searched relentlessly for Rachel. Found months now, nothing. I heard a rumor around Blackwell that Rachel was sleeping with Mark Jefferson, the photography teacher. No doubt she was only indulging him to become one of his models. Quick fame. Didn't matter to me. She had broken it off between us. And all I wanted was for her to be happy.

Happy, not missing.

I had decided to snoop around Jefferson's classroom, car, and house. You would think someone so famous would've at least locked his shit. Nope. But that's how I got where I was. I found directions to an old abandoned barn just on the limits of Arcadia Bay. Fucking creepy old barn, too.

So, I got in my truck and drove all the way to BFE in the hopes of either finding Rachel or any clues as to where she had gone. There's no way she just up and left me. She wasn't like that.

She wasn't Max.

Shaking my head, I made my out of my truck and to the creepy ass barn. The door was locked, so I searched around for another way in. I found a loose piece of metal on the side of the barn, covering an opening just big enough for me to squeeze through.

 _Huh. Convenient._

Searching around a bit, I found old Prescott paperwork, dating back to the 1800s. They were a bunch of ass wipes then, too.

I was still searching when something shiny caught my eye. Walking over to investigate, I came across a padlock. Kicking around the hay to see what else there may be, I eventually came across a door. I quickly made my way back out to my truck, thankful that I had thought to steal some of step-prick's tools. Going back in, I took a pair of almost brand new bolt cutters to the lock.

Like fucking butter.

I managed to get the door open, and walked down the steps, smashing the keypad with bot cutters until it let me in.

Fuck-a-you.

I opened the door, seeing nothing out of the ordinary for a storm cellar at first. Walking a couple more steps, I spotted a curtain of plastic strips. Chills ran down my spine as I walked further into the room. It was uncomfortably clean, every surface looked to be sterilized. It smelled of alcohol and bleach. The atmosphere resembled a hospital, though it looked like a regular lounge. Whatever this room was, it gave me the creeps.

Knowing better than to call out like a fucking idiot, I went immediately to the computer desk, searching some of the online files. The first one to pop up caught my attention immediately.

 _Amber, Rachel._

I clicked on it, only to be absolutely disgusted by its was posed with Nathan, but she looked hella out of it. The more I clicked the 'Next' arrow, the more vile the photos became. Until I got to number '23 of 25.' I couldn't believe my eyes. Nathan killed her. He _killed_ her! That bastard was gonna pay!

I suddenly heard a shuffling coming from the other side of the couch. I hadn't noticed the young woman strapped to the chair. She was unconscious, and nobody was coming for a while, so I decided to print some evidence. Once I closed out Rachel's photos, I went to grab the girl and make my escape, but a name caught my eye.

 _Caulfield, Maxine._

"Max? Why would there be a folder of Max?" I whispered to myself. Opening the file, I nearly vomited right there. Slowly, each photo became more revealing until everything could be seen. Rachel's folder had 25 photos in it; Max's had 75, and most of them were of her being repeatedly violated.

"Oh, my God!" But not once did I see any that indicated that she was dead. Suddenly, another shuffling caught my attention. It was coming from the chair again. Looking from the photos to the poor girl strapped to the chair, clothes shredded almost to nothing, and completely unaware of what was going on around her, it hit me who this girl was.

 _"MAX!"_

I ran to the chair, and unstrapped Max. Having printed her photos as well as Rachel's, I grabbed the evidence, and ran out as fast as I could up stairs. Putting the pictures on the floorboard, I put Max in the passenger seat, running to the driver's. I sped off faster than I ever had in this truck, trying to get Max to the hospital.

~000~

It had been about 15 minutes when I finally pulled up to the hospital. I ran inside the ER, yelling for help. A couple nurses ran to me, one asking what happened. I told her I had found her drugged in a storm cellar, and that I believed her to be Max Caulfield. The nurse looked disturbed, having worked many years with Vanessa Caulfield before they moved away.

They rushed Max in the back, leaving me to wait in the waiting room. While there, I messaged Joyce, telling her that I was in the hospital waiting room and that she needed to get here as soon as possible.

About an hour later, Joyce burst through the door. "Oh, honey. Are you alright?" She hugged me.

I couldn't help it. I broke down crying.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"It's so fucked up, Mom! I found Rachel. She dead! She dead, and now Max might be, too!" I cried even harder.

"Wait, hon, slow down. Rachel is dead?" I nodded. "What did you mean about Max?"

"That's why I'm here. Rachel was killed by Nathan Prescott, he's working with Mark Jefferson. They were kidnapping and drugging girls, Mom! They did it to Max! Among other things!" I continued to cry into her shoulder. The doctor came out a few minutes later, letting us know that it was indeed Max Caulfield back the, that they had to flush her system, and now she's in a room and fully conscious.

I ran probably faster than ever before to room 176, the room the doctor told me she was in. Once I got to the door, I didn't hesitate to throw it open and run in, wrapping my arms around her as I yelled her name in relief.

"Max! Oh, God, I thought I'd lost you!"

 _"Chloe?!"_ She said in a raspy voice.

"Yeah." I wiped my eyes.

We spent the rest of visiting hours catching up. Turns out, she had been in that Dark Room for 3 of the 5 years she'd been gone. Max was released about a week later, and though she was a completely different person, she was still my Max. We got her into therapy, and slowly, Max started to get better.

Nathan and Jefferson were arrested, Rachel got a proper burial, and Max was learning to deal with the affects of being in the Dark Room. Things weren't perfect, but they were pretty good.

 _The End._


End file.
